At My Mother's Deathbed

You looked and looked and looked,
your eyes of cornflower blue
gazing deep within
as if you yearned to see
the essence of my being
and draw it to your soul
that you might take the imprint of it with you 
as you leave.

So you must go. And I will stay;
a tearing of the bond between us
as the gardener divides a plant
to propagate and magnify its yield.
And I will mill the seed you've poured into my life,
like oil distilled from marjoram,
and coax from it fresh blooms suffused
with the fragrance of your life.

© Janet Henderson 4th July 2015


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Marjoram is said to be the herb of love and good fortune. In ancient Greece and Rome it was believed that if wild marjoram grew on a grave, the departed soul was suffused with happiness.  Bridal couples wore wreaths of marjoram to symbolise love, honour and happiness. As a medicinal herb, it is used to relieve pain.


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